


Well-Meaning Laughter

by AniPendragon



Series: Interlocking Existence [7]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Brief Description of Vomitting, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniPendragon/pseuds/AniPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his fight with Yang, Sun recovers in the infirmary, and Pyrrha pays him a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well-Meaning Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> A direct continuation of Parts 5 and 6 of Interlocking Existence.

Sun Wukong laid in the nurses' office and tried, in vain, to block out the quietly throbbing pain emitting from almost every part of his body. With his eyes closed, he could pretend that Yang hadn't nearly pulverized him during that fight. But, as it stood, he was positive it was sheer luck and her own distraction that led him to be able to breathe at this moment in time.

With a sigh, Sun opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He squinted against the light, which was off to the right. There were one hundred and thirty-six square tiles on the ceiling. In his first hour in the nurses' office, he'd counted them.

Not for the first time since arriving, Sun thought about his last moments of lucidity when he'd first arrived. Yang had dragged him from the forest and dropped him in the office. The nurse had gasped at Yang's injuries, but she'd waved the nurse off. Sun remembered, rather vividly, the image of Yang's broken skin stitching itself back together even as she'd left the nurses' office.

He wondered, idly, what her semblance was, and if that was what made her so durable. In their fight, it seemed like only his first few hits had any effect. After that, she had steamrolled him into the ground and only let up when Sun started coughing up blood.

Note to self, he thought, don't piss off Yang Xiao Long _ever again._ Sun coughed, and, as if to prove his point, his ribs ached with every tiny twitch.

"I believe you've learned your lesson, then?" Sun turned his head to see Pyrrha Nikos leaning against the door to the nurses' office. A nurse appeared quickly and Pyrrha smiled sweetly at her.

"I can watch him, why don't you get some lunch, you look famished," said Pyrrha. The nurse flashed a quick look at Sun, seemed to decide he'd survive the hour, and ducked out of the office.

Once she was alone, Pyrrha gave Sun a long, slow once-over, then, eyes dancing, she broke out into loud, overblown laughter. Leaning against the doorway, she wrapped her arms around her sides. She laughed until tears gathered in her eyes. Laughed until her cheeks were flushed deep red and shiny.

Then, she stopped. And grinned at him, still smothering snickers.

"Was that necessary?" grumbled Sun.

"Yes," said Pyrrha. "Anyone who believes angering Yang is a good idea deserves to be laughed at."

"It's not like I tried to piss her off," said Sun, scowling.

Pyrrha walked into the room and ran her fingers over the edge of his bed. Her cocked eyebrow was a question unto itself. "Really?" she asked. "Then what, may I ask, were you trying to do?"

There was a moment of silence – Sun was sulking. He pouted into the bedspread and pretended not to hear her question. Then, something dawned on him.

"How do you even know I was fighting Yang?" he asked.

A slow smile split Pyrrha's amused expression – this one softer and less mocking. "I have just come from the gym, where Yang has… blown up… two separate punching bags in the last ten minutes."

Sun's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?" he asked. He flopped back onto the bed and threw his hands over his face. "How is she not as beat up as I am?"

A moment of hesitation. Sun glanced at Pyrrha. She was staring at the ceiling tiles with the same concentration he had earlier.

"There's a hundred and thirty-six," he said.

Pyrrha blinked. Looked at him. "Pardon?"

Sun pointed to the ceiling. "There's a hundred and thirty-six ceiling tiles. I already counted them. Now _tell me._ "

Pyrrha chewed on the inside of her cheek – a gesture that was visible even with Sun's one swollen eye. He waited as patiently as he could. There was an eye chart behind Pyrrha. He spent a few seconds trying to read it. The first three rows were easy, but the fourth blurred beyond recognition. If he needed glasses, Sun would rather not read. They were too expensive. And far too breakable.

"You should answer my question as well," said Pyrrha. "If you were not trying to fight with Yang, then what were you trying to do?"

Sun fiddled with the sheets. His eyes looked anywhere but Pyrrha. After a few, long, awkward moments, he sighed. He should probably tell her.

"I wanted to talk to her about Blake," said Sun, slowly. "But she totally blew up at me. And it's not my fault we disagree about Blake. She shouldn't act like… like…"

"Like?" prompted Pyrrha.

"Just because you have a crush on someone doesn't mean you get to dictate their lives," grumbled Sun, folding his arms.

Pyrrha frowned. "Why say that about yourself?" Her eyes darted to the window – a thoughtful expression on her brow. Then, a sigh. "Oh, Yang," she said quietly, in that heartbroken tone people had when they realized someone was hurting.

"Yeah," said Sun. He grimaced. "Probably shouldn't have said that."

"Well, that would explain why you two argued," said Pyrrha. She shook her head. "I do hope she'll be all right."

Sun was silent. Then, "So… how is she not totally beat up right now?"

"Her semblance," said Pyrrha. She didn't elaborate for a minute, leaving Sun to think on those words. Yang's semblance? Was it healing? Reversing time? Absorbing pain to fix her own injuries? He doubted it had anything to do with time. Time semblances were as rare as they were terrifying – that's why they were called Chronomasters. There had been only two in existence, to his knowledge, and both were long since dead.

He shook his head, trying to refocus. The world spun around him. And there was the tail end of his concussion. He thought he was over it, but it seemed the spinning nausea had returned.

"Her semblance?" echoed Sun. His tongue was heavy in his mouth. The words clumsy as they tumbled from his lips. The world tipped. He grimaced. His stomach heaved and –

Pyrrha shoved a bucket in front of him just as his stomach clenched. He vomited into the bucket. The smell threatened to choke him. He shoved it away. The bucket disappeared with Pyrrha for a minute.

She returned with tissues, helped him wipe off his face.

The world slowly refocussed.

"Note to self," said Sun. "Don't do that again." Then, to Pyrrha, "Thanks. Sorry." He grimaced again.

Pyrrha shrugged. "It's no trouble, really."

Silence then, for a few long moments as Sun curled around his knees and focussed on his breathing. When he was sure he wasn't going to vomit again, he looked back up at Pyrrha.

"So… semblance?" he asked.

Pyrrha shook her head. "You are nothing if not determined."

"I've been told it's my best trait," said Sun, batting his eyelashes.

Another shake of her head. "You are insufferable, Sun Wukong." Then, with a sigh, "Her semblance allows her to absorb the damage she is dealt and send it back to her opponents. Each strike literally makes her stronger."

Sun's eyes grew wide. For a moment, he was speechless, then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "That's. Terrifying." His mind went back to the fight between Yang and Sun. So long as he avoided hitting her directly, he'd been able to strike. But each time one of his bullets had pounded her skin, Yang had come back harder. "Wow."

"To be honest, I'm amazed she didn't kill you, upset as she is," said Pyrrha.

"I'll count myself lucky," said Sun.

More awkward silence. Pyrrha fiddled with the sleeve of her school uniform's jacket. Her eyes darted around the room. Sun wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and reached for his water. The taste of bile on his tongue was more than unwelcome.

"So… how's Neptune?" asked Pyrrha.

"Don't you have a thing for Jaune?" asked Sun in response.

Pyrrha sputtered. "I do not… he does not… I am not…" She shook her head. "That is not the _point_ ," she said, voice growing higher. "Am I not allowed to make conversation?"

Sun grinned. "You are," he said. "It's just great to see the great Pyrrha Nikos flustered."

"Please don't call me that," said Pyrrha, sighing.

Sun nodded, catching the long suffering tone of defeat in Pyrrha's voice. He grimaced, wished he could take it back, and quickly changed the subject. "Yeah, Neptune's fine. A little weird lately, but fine."

"Weird?" echoed Pyrrha. She started sorting the glasses on the nurses' table by size and colour. Sun watched the deft movements of her hands with mild interest.

"He's Neptune," said Sun, shrugging. "He's always weird. I think he's avoiding me though."

Pyrrha visibly chewed on the inside of her cheek. Then, "Perhaps his romantic life is struggling," she offered.

Sun snorted. "Yeah, sure. Neptune can't get a date? That'll be the day." He laughed, leaning back against his stacked up pillows.

"Perhaps he cannot get a date with the one he wishes to," said Pyrrha.

Sun's eyebrows rose. "Neptune can get a date with anyone he wants, Pyrrha. Come on."

Pyrrha gave him a pointed look. "Not anyone," she said. But before Sun could think of what that meant, the nurse returned, and Pyrrha was waving goodbye.

Before she left, she paused at the doorframe. Her gaze flicked to the nurse. The nurse didn't look up from her desk.

"Just… talk to him, Sun," said Pyrrha, her hand on the door. "I'm sure being in a school where he doesn't know anyone gets lonely."

"Yeah," said Sun. "Sure." And then Pyrrha was gone. Sun shook his head and curled into his cot for a nap. Pyrrha was wrong. Neptune was fine. There was nothing to worry about.

At least, he hoped there wasn't.


End file.
